


A Kingdom of Three

by GalaxyGazing



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Other, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGazing/pseuds/GalaxyGazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skylynx and Darksteel believe they are worthless to their king when they discover they are barren. Predaking convinces them that this is untrue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kingdom of Three

 

If Darksteel and Skylynx had any doubts about their king’s authority one year ago, those doubts had been traded entirely for adoration.

Before the last battle for Cybertron, Predaking had engaged them in combat, pinned them down, and assured them that he was not their boss but their _king_. Though the two lesser clones had complied out of fear at the time, the universe’s last three predacons were all pleasantly surprised by how their relationship had since evolved.

Predaking had earned their loyalty by educating them about the mighty history of their ancestors. However, their _devotion_ had been earned by filling them with the hope that the very same might could possibly walk Cybertron again.

They would talk late into the nights about the opportunity for the predacons' rebirth. Darksteel and Skylynx would bury into their leader’s sides, realizing how badly they now yearned for something they never knew they wanted, and how close their vision was to becoming a reality.

Of course, with Shockwave and any other bot versed in the art of replicating CNA beyond their resources, cloning was no longer an option. If there was to be rebirth, it would need to be done the natural way. Just as he had eloquently detailed the rich history of their past, Predaking had also explained the rituals of heat cycles, interfacing, and spark-carrying.

Every bit of information the king had read in the Decepticon war ship’s endless library databases was thusly relayed to his subordinates. Afterwards, he ended the lesson with an offer:

“I do not demand this of you. The choice to bare my sparklings is yours to make, and I only wish you to do so if this dream is something you desire with a passion equal to my own.”

The response was enthusiastic, to say the least. All three were aglow with the possibility of a bright future, one that restored the lore of predacons to truth.

However, all the literature Predaking had read on the subject promised that successful conceptions yielded results by the following season. As the days passed on and the season came to a close with no biological changes, Predaking began to fear all was not well.

A good king was not above seeking the council of others if it concerned the wellbeing of his subjects. Therefore, Predaking took the most responsible course of action and contacted the Autobots, asking for their medical expertise.

“All tests on your genetic makeup yield the same result,” Knock Out said quietly, eyes flicking down to his holographic clipboard, “It would seem that clones lack the ability to carry. I’m sorry.”

There it went.

All of their hope.

All the glory of their future.

Extinguished by a single medical examination.

The silence that strangled the room was almost unbearable, but the stillness was broken when Skylynx couldn’t take it anymore. Heaving a dry sob, the predacon transformed into his beast mode and exited the medical facility with all the might and ferocity a wounded creature could command.

Predaking immediately glanced over at Darksteel to see how he was faring. The griffin-like predacon was taking the news very differently, shutting down, spiraling inwards. Silently, he pursed his lips thin and avoided his leader’s gaze.

After a terrible eternity of uncomfortableness, Predaking took up his responsibility to be the most levelheaded of his brethren,

“Thank you, doctor,” he said solemnly, “Darksteel, please accompany me to find Skylynx.”

 

  
-

  
  
  
It was not a matter of _if_ they would find Skylynx, but when. Predacons were the ultimate trackers, after all. There was no place Skylynx could hide for very long, they simply needed to wait for him to get tired and rest.

That time came at sundown when the sky was a faded orange and the atmosphere was cooling. Predaking and Darksteel spotted their companion seated before the vast expanse of land which once housed the bones of their ancestors. Diving silently and discretely from the sky, they each landed a good stretch of ground behind him, as to not startle the already shaken bot.

When transformed back into their upright forms, the two predacons looked at each other with quiet mournfulness. Predaking was the first to break the silence, placing a gentle servo on Darksteel’s shoulder,

“I want to thank you for remaining calm throughout all this. I know that what we have learned today has wounded your spark, as it has wounded mine. I will return later and offer my comfort to you, but understand that Skylynx is in greater need of my attention right now.”

Darksteel nodded, sympathetic, and remained behind as Predaking moved to approach the other bot.

Skylynx was curled tightly into himself. His knees were pulled up with his arms folded across them and his faceplate was hidden in misery. Slowly, Predaking lowered himself to the ground to sit next to him. Skylynx acknowledged his presence by turning his faceplate away and sobbing harder, breath all uneven and voice choked.

“Skylynx,” Predaking began gently, “It is okay to be saddened by this. I hurt with you.”

Skylynx’s whole body gave a painful shudder and he curled his trembling digits into fists. He spoke in a wet voice which cracked midway in distress, “I’m _worthless_.”

Predaking was startled to hear these words. His race, though small, was proud and mighty. They were gods among titans. His habitually confident subject was crumbling, losing himself, losing sight of his greatness. Perplexed and very troubled, Predaking parted his lips to question him but Skylynx answered before he could, “What good is a subject who can’t serve his king?”

The younger predacon seem to set himself off when he heard his own words and buried his faceplate in his folded arms once again, sucking in a high-pitched intake of air that was followed by another round of quiet whimpering.

Hearing the true reason of Skylynx’s agony broke Predaking’s spark in a way he did not know possible. This was loyalty at its finest. This was anguish at its worst. He saw now that, as a king, he had failed his subjects. Desperately, he tried to correct his error.

Encircling Skylynx’s shoulders with one, giant arm, Predaking pulled him into his side. Skylynx was easily guided; limp, broken, and tired from flying all day, he no longer had the strength to fight back.

When Predaking spoke again, he did so in a voice that was clear and genuine, speaking slowly to ensure that he was absolutely understood, “Being barren does _not_ make you worthless. It does the very opposite.”

Skylynx sniffled but remained silent, refusing to lift his helm. Predaking thumbed his shoulder softly, “It is clear to me now that it is no longer possible to rebuild our race. The three of us are the last of our kind that are or ever will be. That makes you and Darksteel the most precious things in the world to me.”

The whimpering has subsided as Skylynx listened to his king’s words, but the trembling did not cease. Pressing his lips to the top of his helm, Predaking growled in a desperate whisper, mostly out of frustration with himself, “Forgive me.”

He shut his yellow eyes tight. A good king was wise enough to recognize when he had wronged his subjects. A great king was compassionate enough to apologize.

Drawing in a trembling breath of his own, Predaking tried again, elaborating, “Forgive me...for making you feel that your value was based on your ability to produce life. Skylynx, _your_ life is the one I care about. You and Darksteel are my world.”

At last, Skylynx raised his faceplate from his protective barrier of arms and hesitantly met his leader’s gaze. Predaking touched their helms together for a moment before placing a kiss on Skylynx’s forehelm. Shortly after, he waved for Darksteel of come over and sit on the other side of him.

Embracing the other bot the same way in which he held Skylynx, Predaking pulled them both into his sides. When he did so, Darksteel finally allowed himself to weep quietly while the nerves worked their way out of his system.

Holding his subjects thusly was likely no way for a king to address his subordinates, but after what they had learned today, it was now clear that Predaking would never be a leader of a kingdom…just these two. The least he could do was to step off of his throne for a moment to assure his precious ones that they were still very much wanted.

“I have spent much time projecting my love onto lives that _could_ exist. I see now that by doing so, I have ignored the lives of two who are already before me. A king’s success is not based on the number of his subjects, but the loyalty of those who keep his company.”

“My king,” Skylynx whispered in response, nuzzling into his side.  
  
“My king,” Darksteel echoed, closing all space between himself and his leader.

 

-

 

Predaking slowly licked upwards to place soft kisses under Darksteel’s chin, causing the bot to arch up on the recharge birth. Simultaneously, the largest predacon ghosted ticklish digits down Skylynx’s chestplate.  
  
“I promise both of you now,” Predaking breathed, stopping his barrage of kisses to speak, “This act shall never again be used as a means to conceive, but rather, we shall interface only to worship each other with physical pleasure.”

The use of the words _we_ and _each other_ were careful choices, used to implore a certain level of equality, at least when it came to this particular act. Darksteel and Skylynx had certainly done their part in service of their king and now, Predaking thought, it was fitting that their king serviced them.

“My beautiful boys,” Predaking purred, sliding off of the berth to kneel before it. Darksteel and Skylynx lay side by side, each propped up a bit to watch their leader crouch before them. Slipping two digits into his mouth to wet them, Predaking asked, “Will you accept the worship of your king?”  
  
Nodding shakily, both of the smaller bots parted their legs, each having to cross one of theirs over the others’ so they may both spread out on the berth. In sync, the two retracted their interface panels to reveal that transfluids had already begun to well up.

Gently, Predaking inserted a solitary digit into Skylynx’s valve and began to tease the first ring of interior nodes. Skylynx gasped but Darksteel full out groaned when his leader pressed his hot glossa into his quivering valve. Both bots grunted and took in air erratically as Predaking licked and fingered them open.

Predaking stole a lick at Darksteel’s anterior node before giving it a gentle kiss that evolved to use more and more glossa. The gold-plated bot began to jerk his hips on the berth, wanting more, needing something _deeper_. Understanding, Predaking promptly reversed his methods for each bot, slipping a glistening finger into Darksteel’s tight valve and licking up Skylynx’s transfluids from his aft to his clit.

Their pedes slid and trembled on the berth when their valves really began to swell with want, letting Predaking know they were ready. Withdrawing himself from each of them, Predaking rose to his feet and gazed down at his panting subjects.

“Beautiful,” he repeated. Darksteel was scratching lines into the berth from gripping it so tightly and Skylynx’s hips were still slightly humping a glossa that was no longer there. Truly a lovely sight to behold.

“Because we are the last, we must band together, all three of us. That must be what makes us strong. Not our numbers, but our fierce connection to each other,” Predaking informed.

Darksteel began to tremble and Skylynx choked on a sound that never made it past his throat. It was not Predaking’s intention to leave them flustered, but he had something else in mind.

“ _All_ of us. You two know that I adore you. Now, I need you to adore each other.”

Confused, the two recumbent bots turned their helms so they met the other’s stare. Though they had both been intimate next to each other, they had never been intimate _with_ each other, and certainly not without their king’s involvement.

“Go on.”

Skylynx swallowed hard and bashfully lowered his optics. Darksteel hesitated briefly before he remembered how hurt his compatriot had been earlier that day, and how lovingly he had watched his king comfort him. He supposed, now that he was given the chance to consider it, bonding with Skylynx was an intriguing concept.

Running a thumb down the contour of Skylynx’s faceplate, Darksteel asked permission with his optics. Answering the wordless plea, Skylynx nodded and the two predacons fit their mouths neatly together. Their kisses were reserved at first, exploratory and shy, but it wasn’t long before their bodies shifted to face each other entirely and their servos began to tentatively wander down the each other’s sides.

Predaking grinned, finally allowing himself to free his own aching spike from its cover, stroking it with the same slow and delicate care that his subordinates were using with each other.

“Good. A little more now,” Predaking encouraged.

Skylynx visibly jolted when Darksteel moved to press two digits onto his exterior node, rubbing in the gentlest of circles, applying pressure when needed. Catching himself, Skylynx rubbed at Darksteel’s spike covering until the other bot retracted it for him. As Skylynx began to tug and Darksteel continued to probe, each began to thrust their hips on a quest for higher stimulation.

As before, Predaking knew just when to halt his subjects, “Easy, loves, easy,” he cooed, placing a servo on each of their hips to quiet their frantic bucking.

“Now, shall we all enjoy?”  
  
“My king!”  
  
“Yes, my king.”  
  
“Then let us bond, the three of us. Skylynx, reveal your spike, please,” Predaking politely commanded, as the still-concealed bot was the only one not yet to do so. Predaking found that using a less commanding tone was more effective in interfacing scenarios as his subjects all but scrambled to do his every whim.

“And Darksteel, if you could take him inside of you.”

“Y-yes, my king,” Darksteel panted. Hungrily, Predaking watched the delicious sight of Darksteel sitting up on the birth and mounting one knee on either side of his partner, sitting upright in his lap. It only added to the eroticism when Darksteel looked pleadingly over his shoulder for his leader’s approval as he positioned himself over Skylynx’s hard spike.

Slowly and carefully, Darksteel impaled his valve with it.

Skylynx cried out and bucked upwards which made Darksteel almost lose his balance before bending over him and—low and behold—the two were kissing again without any further prompt. Darksteel began to ride Skylynx without any more reservations _._ Skylynx rocked his hips upwards as the other bot ground down.

“Boys, boys,” Predaking half-heartedly interrupted, not really wanting to stop the beguiling display but quite ready to satiate his own throbbing spike, “Wait for your king.”

Skylynx groaned when the movement stopped but Darksteel covered his mouth with his own, licking sloppily, uncoordinated by lust, to soothe him in the meantime.

Predaking pushed on Skylynx’s knees so his aft lifted up from the berth slightly, causing Darksteel to fall forward a few inches. Positioning his massive spike at Skylynx’s overly-wet valve, Predaking found it effortless to bury himself inside him with one slow, steady push.

Skylynx jerked frantically, not knowing whether he wanted to grind down on Predaking’s spike of buck up into Darksteel’s valve. Hooking his own chin over Darksteel’s shoulder, Predaking watched the cute internal battle of indecision flicker across the poor bot’s face.

Darksteel groaned as Predaking licked at his audial before nibbling at his neck cables, making him shiver in a way that all three of them could feel.  
  
“You may move now,” Predaking permitted.

In a disordered spectacle, all three of them moved clumsily before they found their grace. Predaking fell over his subjects with powerful thrusts, Darksteel worked heavily with his thighs to sit repeatedly onto Skylynx’s spike, and Skylynx did the best he could under the weight of both of them, jolting his metal hips to meet both of their movements while stroking Darksteel’s thick spike.

Previously, all interfacing had been straightforward and done for a specific purpose. However now, no longer burdened by the pressure to produce, it seemed that Predaking’s subjects were allowing themselves to enjoy it wholeheartedly. Now that he saw his beautiful brethren so desperately lost to their pleasure, Predaking decided there was nothing he wanted more than to ensure that they would always feel this content under his command.

SkyLynx’s valve began to twitch around his leader’s spike and Predaking responded by promptly pulling out.

“Your turn, Darksteel,” Predaking growled into his shoulder, “I think you know what to do.”  
  
Darksteel whimpered in the best of ways, acknowledging his instruction, and sat up off of Skylynx’s spike.  With some quick rearranging after shifting downwards on the berth, Darksteel drove his spike into Skylynx’s trembling metal folds, causing the latter to throw his arms around Darksteel’s shoulders and pant a quiet, “Yes. Yes!”

Predaking smiled and lovingly stroked a servo down Darksteel’s back, once again enjoying the performance of his subjects. This time, they worked with no hesitancy. Darksteel grabbed Skylynx in the bends of his knees, pushing him upward, heels to the ceiling, fragging him hard and primal.

Not needing to say a word more, Predaking now offered his spike to Darksteel’s valve, which swallowed it up with enthusiasm. Standing at the edge of the berth, Predaking thrust deep into Darksteel’s innermost nodes, angling himself in ways that made the penetrated squirm and momentarily falter his rhythm with Skylynx before quickly resuming with more vigor than ever.

With all three predacons working their bodies to their limit, they each erupted through their overloads with inconceivable force.

Skylynx screamed, Darksteel groaned, Predaking hissed. Valves throbbed and gripped tight, spikes ejaculated thick release that splattered thighs and abdomens and chests. Darksteel and Skylynx fell into a heap while Predaking pumped Darksteel full and didn’t stop until the edge of the berth was a slow-dripping waterfall of interface aftermath.

When Predaking retracted his weight, Darksteel crawled off of his partner with wobbly legs, lying beside him on the berth once more. Before they could slip into recharge, Predaking bestowed a tender kiss to each of them; reinforcing his devotion to his subjects, regardless of their fertility.

A king without an heir is still a king, but a king without subjects is not.

Skylynx and Darksteel were his to rule and to guide, but more importantly, his to love and protect.

They were a kingdom of their own: a mighty race of three.

 

 

-  
The End

 


End file.
